


Second Chances

by memoriescantwait (orphan_account)



Series: Love Across the Gate [1]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist, Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003)
Genre: 1920s, Age Difference, Angst, Developing Relationship, M/M, Multi, One-Sided Relationship, Post-Canon, Weimar Republic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-28
Updated: 2013-11-03
Packaged: 2017-12-09 19:19:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/777080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/memoriescantwait
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With nothing left in Amestris to live for, Roy Mustang has decided to seek out the Gate, to join the man who still haunts his thoughts, years later. But he feels obliged to give someone else a chance whom he knows loves Edward Elric as much as Roy does. It's the least he can do for her, after all he's taken from Winry Rockbell. </p><p>Post-COS. One-sided EdWin, eventual RoyEd.  Later stories in the series may involve other pairings as well. Rating may go up with later chapters.</p><p>--</p><p>ETA: Most likely abandoned. Sorry! I've been focusing on other fandoms and kind of got out of the headspace I needed for finishing this. I might come back to it later, but I can't make any promises. Please enjoy what I have though!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Confession

They'd reconciled years ago, but Roy Mustang still felt like he owed so much to Winry Rockbell. And so much of it had to do with the _way_ they'd reconciled: their mutual adoration of a certain blond alchemist.

Even after Ed had crossed the gate for the first time, and Roy had let himself get to know his youngest subordinate's childhood friend a little bit more - because Winry had allowed him in, finally lowering her shields, finally forgiving him - he hadn't gotten that close to her. There was still a little bit of an edge between them, a bit of a roadblock. But it was enough to see it written all over her face, every time Ed came up in conversation. Hell, if Roy was honest, he'd seen it when the girl had first come to visit the Elrics in Central, all those years ago. The time she and Ed had been captured by that serial killer. It was in the way she lit up or let her cheeks go crimson every time Ed paid her particular attention. Heck, he knew Winry Rockbell loved Edward Elric before he knew that he himself did.

Ah, to be a teenager and in love. To be able to _show the world_ you're in love. Roy missed those days.

He couldn't afford to be anything other than poker-faced even with the women he wooed to his bed for one-night stands. He couldn't let them know how little he wanted from them. But he especially couldn't afford to show his cards when it came to his youngest, most brilliant subordinate, from whom he desired far too _much_.

And yet, wasn't he going to Risembool for this exact reason? To discuss with Miss Rockbell the thing they, such unlikely comrades, had in common? 

To give her a chance - now that he knew there _was_ a chance - at the thing that he knew she deserved, so much more than Roy ever would?

* * *

 

And Winry, in turn, had seen right through Roy's defenses when they'd first met at Hughes's grave and decided to put aside their differences. The way that Roy seemed to be eternally sure that Ed was still alive. And the way he'd given up everything because of his turmoil over Ed's disappearance. The sparkle in his eyes, whenever Edward Elric's name was mentioned. The sparkle he tried so hard to hide, but if there was one thing the automail mechanic knew, it was all things that sparkled and flashed.

Winry knew it could only mean one thing.

"You're in love with him, aren't you?" she'd said to Roy Mustang, after he'd confessed where he'd been all those years, and _why_. Her eyes had narrowed knowingly beneath her long blonde, slightly overgrown bangs.

Roy had been startled at the question. He'd considered it many times - maybe he'd finally reached the point where he truly believed it himself, on at least some level - but he'd never confessed it to anyone else. 

He hadn't needed to. Winry had smirked, in that way so peculiar to teenage girls who think they've found some juicy piece of gossip. Even teenage girls who had seen so much of the world and its cruelties as she had.

"I think you are," Winry had replied, her smirk growing, turning into a sly grin. 

Roy had continued to blush and stammer. Winry's smile had grown further, but different - more understanding - and then it had faded into a sigh as she looked away from Roy and back to the gravestone.

"It means we have something in common, then," she had said. Perhaps she had thought it was news, but Roy had had a feeling even Winry knew how much he had already picked up from her over the years.

"And maybe it makes it easier for me to finally forgive you. To know you had the same reaction to Edward as I did - as so many people did who came into his life." She took a deep breath. "He really had no idea what he did to people, right? How easy he was to love?" She had looked at Roy longingly.

Roy's nervousness had  vanished as he'd smiled sadly, and nodded. "No, he really doesn't."

Winry had returned Roy's sad grin. "I can't pretend that I believe he's still alive," she'd continued, "that he really would leave everyone who loved him behind - vanish without any attempt to contact me or Granny, or Al, or even you. But..." She'd tentatively reached out a hand, to place on Roy's shoulder. It was trembling as she did it; Roy knew that some part of her still resented him, try as she might to change her feelings. And he would never blame her for it.

"But...I want to believe in him, like you do. And if you can love him and you can keep up faith in him, then that's how I know you are a good person underneath it all, Colonel Mustang. No bad person can have that kind of connection with Edward Elric." That's when she'd removed her hand and walked away, but not without a quick "Give me a call if you ever need anything, Colonel."

"I'm not a Colonel anymore," he'd tried to correct her, but it was too late. Winry was already out of earshot.

* * *

 

Though they'd talked on the phone since, the meeting still haunted him, years later. He'd been able to admit what he felt for Edward in the years since - that Winry was absolutely right about it - and he'd been able to recognize that it had started ages ago, but it was only during his isolation in the North that he'd really been able to come to terms with it. When he had less to do, more time to think. More time to work over his feelings, about everyone and everything, but particularly about the young boy with the blond halo and gleaming metal limbs who so often invaded his thoughts.

And then Edward had returned, and Roy had, oh so briefly, felt alive again. But just as quickly, he was gone, returned to the other side of the Gate.

And Roy was lonely again. And thinking too much again. He hadn't gone back to the North, but even Central, the gleaming, bustling metropolis of Amestris, felt empty without that rush of energy in a long red coat. No one was the same after Edward Elric entered their life, least of all Roy Mustang.

And it was time to slowly ponder things. Slowly, carefully consider his options.

Roy knew his life in Amestris had become meaningless. Even after saving his country from that madwoman from the other world, his chances of ever becoming Führer were ruined by his murder of the previous title-holder. It had been the right thing to do, but it had come at the cost of Roy's dreams. There were other worthy successors to Grumman - like Olivier Armstrong, the Major-General he'd technically worked under when he was in the borderlands - who could take what was once Roy's possible place and, hopefully, turn this country into at least some version of what he had wanted it to be. But it couldn't be Roy himself. The people would never accept it.

And the more he accepted that fact, the more it felt like there was truly a hole in his life. An Edward-Elric-shaped hole. He had ripped through East and Central HQ with his brother and transformed all of them, but Roy thought _he'd_ , at least, be at peace just knowing Edward was _alive_ , even if he'd never see him again. As long as Ed was happy and reunited with his brother - convincing Al to hide in the armor had been Roy's parting gift to the Fullmetal Alchemist - Roy could be satisfied.

But as the months and then, years, went by, he knew that wasn't the case. Ed still haunted his thoughts, every day and every night. In his dreams, when he wasn't still re-living the horrors of Ishval, it was all Edward, Edward, Edward.

Others had suggested that he maybe try his luck in another country. He had relatives in Xing, after all; maybe he could make something of himself there, try to learn their unique brand of alchemy. But Roy knew there was only one answer to his torment, and it lay on the other side of the Gate. He'd closed it, per Edward's request, but he knew it wouldn't take much to re-open it - just a rogue alchemist with too much of an interest in human transmutation. Hell, the military had had several close calls with those in the past few years; the country's transitional, unstable state meant there was still plenty of strife throughout Amestris, resulting in plenty of desperate people willing to resort to desperate measures. And Roy always asked himself why he hadn't taken the opportunity to tumble through and find the man he loved on the other side.

Maybe it was because he still didn't feel worthy of Fullmetal's affections, after all these years. 

But he knew someone else who was, and now that he'd made up his mind about his course of action, he may as well ask her if she wanted anything to do with it.


	2. Black and White

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roy has something to ask of Winry. From her perspective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm aware that I'm taking some creative liberties with the timeline of events before Ed and Al's failed human transmutation. I like the way my writing flows better with this order, so there you go.

When Winry Rockbell was little, her world was like that of most little kids. Drawn in clear lines of black and white, right and wrong, good and bad. Sunshine and darkness.

Sunshine was most of what she had experienced growing up in the rolling hills of Resembool, chasing the neighbors' boys, Ed and Al, who had fast become her best friends. Gulping down her grandmother's stew. Being doted on by her parents, and watching her friends be doted on by their own mother.

(Winry had never met their father, who had disappeared when they were all very young. But in the way of young children, she hadn't questioned it. As far as she was concerned then, Ed and Al just didn't have a dad. That was the way of the world; she had Mommy and Daddy, Ed and Al had their Mommy. That was the map of Winry's universe, and changing things like that would be akin to moving continents.)

But then darkness started to seep in, a little earlier than it does in most lives. The black began to outline the white.

First, when her friends no longer had their Mommy. She'd fallen one day, triggered by nothing, and then been consigned to a bed... and it was like Trisha Elric had just faded away, faded the way seasons fade - green leaves turn to brown, snow melts into green grass. The disease took its course and everyone did what they could, but there was no stopping it, and Trisha could do nothing but surrender, much as they could all tell how much she wanted to live longer for her boys, and (everyone but the kids knew) to see her beloved Hohenheim again.

Then there was the lighter type of darkness, like a fog, that entered when the people Winry loved started to leave for other places. Her parents left for the war in the desert, because people would be wounded and needed them to fix their wounds. Winry didn't understand why people had to be wounded on purpose, when life was good enough at hurting people on its own, like Trisha. (She didn't know that there were plenty of adults, including her parents, who still asked that same question.)

Her two best friends found the mysterious housewife by the lake and were suddenly off to study alchemy with her. Winry had never had much interest in alchemy, but she knew it was special to Ed and Al - saw the pride in their eyes when they'd presented their mother with some trinket made out of dirt from the front porch. Their eyes hadn't shone like that much since Trisha had passed away. Winry wanted to see them shine again like that, and was happy if studying with that dark-haired woman would achieve that for them, but she didn't like them being gone so long.

Then, there came the two sharp blasts of darkness, brilliant and bright if those concepts weren't the antithesis of what darkness is. 

Her parents, dead, gunned down by some then-faceless soldier, because they dared to heal both sides, because they dared to question the war, and the lines that it drew.

And then, not too long after, when Ed and Al had tried to resurrect their mother, and suddenly Ed was in Winry's house, crying out for automail, and Al was without a body, stuck in a gigantic suit of armor, his voice with a certain metallic resonance it hadn't had before and they all hoped it wouldn't have forever.

Two black bursts in the night, that had changed Winry Rockbell's life forever.

Clearly black. Clearly bad things.

They say one of the key lessons of growing up is learning to accept ambiguity, to let those lines of black and white blend into shades of gray.

No young person had been forced to learn that lesson, faster or crueller, like Winry Rockbell had. At least, none who weren't alchemists.

Like Ed and Al were alchemists.

Or the jittery young soldier who had killed Winry's parents, and shattered all his remaining idealism with the same bullets.

* * *

The phone was ringing. "I'll get it!" Winry called to her grandmother. She knew Pinako was busy sweeping the bedroom.

The bedroom that had once been where Ed and Al would stay when they visited. Its emptiness was just a cruel reminder that Winry would never see them again. She didn't know how her grandmother could stand sweeping it, but she was glad she did - because Winry definitely couldn't.

The younger Rockbell ran to and picked up the phone.

"Rockbell Automail Service," she said in the mock-perk that went with that phrase.

"Miss Rockbell, it's me," said a certain distinctive baritone.

"Colonel Mustang," she said. It had been a long time since he had called them.

"Yes, for once I don't have to correct you," he responded, a slight chuckle in his voice. "They restored me to my former rank, at least my rank before the mock Drachman campaign. I suppose it was as a thanks for my part in the Affair of the Gate. I'm still never going to lead this country, though."

"That's a shame," she said, solemnly. She wasn't sure what "Drachman campaign" he was referring to, but the Colonel often forgot what he had and hadn't told Winry. "I think you would be good at it. Being Führer, or whatever the title is now."

"Thank you, That means a lot coming from you," he said, and Winry knew it really did. She wondered if the Colonel knew she was being completely honest.

"Anyway," he continued, "I have a favor to ask of you, as much as I know that it's not and never will be my place."

"Sure," Winry said. "Fire away." The Colonel didn't have to keep groveling; Winry actually appreciated not being reminded. But she knew it was the only way that he could bear talking to her without drowning in his guilt, so she put up with it and didn't say anything.

"No, it's something I'd like to talk with you about in person," he said. "Let me know when I can come by your place, and I'll book my train tickets for Risembool."

Winry paused. This must be important, if Colonel Mustang was willing to travel all the way out here from Central in order to discuss it with her. Then, her brain lit up. "There's no need," the younger Rockbell said. "I'm supposed to be visiting a client in Central in a couple of weeks. I could come by to talk with you about it then, if that's not too late?"

"No, of course not," the Colonel said. "Whatever is best for you." It was always how he dealt with her. Winry sighed.

And thought of the question she really wanted to ask.

"So what is so important that it needs to be discussed in-person?"

There was a long pause, until Winry heard the Colonel take a deep breath, clearly readying himself to speak. "It's about Edward," he said.

Winry's eyes widened.

"I think...I think I've found a way for us to see him again," he stammered out, slowly.

And she dropped the phone.

* * *

Two weeks. Two long weeks passed, and Winry was supposed to be working on the client's automail, but her mind kept drawing back to what the Colonel had told her on the phone.

It was a military client, a woman who had lost an arm in some border skirmish with Aerugo when she was stationed in the South. Captain Amelia Forsyth. Winry wondered if the Colonel knew her, since they were both officers and living in Central.

And thinking of the Colonel brought her right back to that conversation, and Edward.

Winry wasn't sure when _exactly_ she had begun to fall in love with the Fullmetal Alchemist. They had always been friends, and she had always figured that she would marry one of the Elric boys. But around the time that Winry began investigating Juliet Douglas with Sciezka, she started to realize that she thought of Ed much more often than Al, and particularly of physical things... of his golden eyes and his long, thick hair - too pretty for a boy - and his tanned skin. And how he always had a fire burning his eyes, of determination, to get his brother's body back and set things straight. And how he always marched into every situation full of boldness and confidence, and yet with the slightest twinges of fearful anticipation around his beautiful amber eyes, that you could only see if you looked closely - as Winry did, because she found she _liked_ to look closely at Ed, and that she longed for him when he was gone. She missed Al, too, but there was a _depth_ of her longing for the elder Elric that she didn't feel with anyone else.

That she wouldn't feel for someone else, at least, for some time. But when she did, she knew she'd realize it sooner because she'd notice the same signs. She had talked to her grandmother, to Sciezka, to everyone around her who might know and whom she could trust with her feelings, and she knew that it was the same for all people who were in love. Winry was in love.

And the Colonel was in love, too, with the same person. Now that Winry knew the signs, she could also read them in others. And she saw the longing in the way that Mustang spoke of Ed, the same depth of longing that Winry felt in her gut whenever the Fullmetal Alchemist came to her mind. With Ed's first absence, the longing had intensified and faded but then flared back into existence again when Winry thought of him, but with the brothers' permanent departure for the other world it had settled back into a sort of sad resignation.

But now she could feel the flaring up again as she packed her things for the voyage to Central, where Winry would be staying with Sciezka while she worked on attaching Captain Forsyth's arm and pondered over whatever the Colonel's proposal was.

The morning her train left, Winry bid Pinako farewell with a wave as she tugged her suitcase down the long path to the Risembool train station, checking her tickets and pulling her coat and scarf closer. It was autumn, and it just beginning to get nippy outside. Winry hadn't expected it would be this cold.

There were a lot of thing she'd experience on this trip, Winry felt, that she couldn't expect.

As she slid into her car, unpacking the breakfast she'd made in her lap, Winry could feel the same fearful anticipation she so often saw in Ed's eyes when he was off on another mission.

She had no idea what to expect in Central. She had no idea what to expect from the Colonel.

But it involved a chance to see Edward again, so she would weather it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait, I'll be updating more frequently in the future! I didn't quite know where I wanted to go with this chapter, but I have a pretty clear plan for the rest of it.


	3. Maybe This Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Berlin, 1926. Having escaped from the Thules and built a new life for themselves in Berlin, the Elric brothers are doing well - but Al wishes Ed could be honest with himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prepare to meet my own personal version of alter!Roy! And if you know any German, laugh at what I named him.
> 
> And yes, the chapter title is totally taken from [a certain musical](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E3rkLRJ0m0k) set during the Weimar Republic... There will probably be a lot of references to _Cabaret_ and various other media made or set during that time, with the Germany chapters. I'm kind of obsessed with the time period.

Evading the Thule Society had been easier than Al and Ed would have thought. The Nazis had scrambled after the fallout of the Beer-Hall Putsch resulted in most of their leaders getting arrested, and outside of Bavaria they weren't much of a problem at all.

Establishing themselves in Berlin - finding jobs where their expertise fit, where they wouldn't ask questions about Ed and Al's lack of background - _that_ had been the hard part.

But Berlin wasn't a bad city for that. It was a city full of vagabonds, full of people from all corners of Europe and the Earth, eking out places for themselves in its more colorful corners. Alphonse Elric had a feeling that even if Ed and he were more upfront about their being from another world, that theirs wouldn't be the strangest story a lot of their acquaintances had heard.

Especially in Schöneberg.

Their neighborhood, especially where they lived, near Nollendorfplatz, was the center of Berlin's gay neighborhood. It was another plus to moving north; Berlin was much more tolerant of... differences than they were in the south. This world didn't accept homosexuality quite as well as they did in Amestris - where, while it was still uncommon, and frowned-upon by some circles, it was generally not a huge deal. But in certain corners of Berlin, people who preferred their own gender, or who weren't particularly choosy about gender at all, could open up and be themselves.

People like Al's older brother.

Al had suspected for a long time that Ed wasn't particularly interested in women. He remembered when they had walked in on Psiren in Aquorya, when she was changing into her costume and exposed her array... right over her chest. Al had still been a suit of armor, but even in that state, he couldn't help but feel a bit flustered by such a fantastic display of such exquisitely-shaped breasts. But all Ed seemed to care about was that it revealed her secret identity. He didn't seem frazzled by her bust at all.

It wouldn't have been much, though, if Al hadn't noticed other things. As the famed People's Alchemist, Ed always had a long line of admirers, in every town they visited, in spite of his short stature. From the exotic looks that they'd both inherited from their father - literally, from another era - to the brothers' prodigious talent and intelligence and physical agility, it made sense. But of course, since Al was a suit of armor at the time, all the admiration of that kind went to his older brother.

And, of course, most of his admirers were women. From their childhood friend Winry - who they'd fought over once upon a time, before either of them were old enough to know which way they'd end up swinging - to the pink-and-brown-haired young mother in Lior, Rose. Heck, even Rose's double, the Roma girl, Noa, seemed to be fixated on Ed. And while Ed was mostly oblivious to the attentions he got from all quarters, with the more forceful girls - and it was always the girls who pushed themselves on Ed - he seemed very out-of-sorts. Very uncomfortable. Even when they were the sort of girls that Al knew he would _die_ to have look at him that way.

Well, okay, Ed was never that unsettled by Winry, even in her more obvious moments (which she thought no one picked up on, but Al did, and he was sure Granny Pinako, at least, did too). But Winry was Winry. They'd grown up around her; she was like a sister to them, and there was no way anything with her could be weird.

Al had wondered for a long time if Ed just wasn't interested in sex much at all. But then, when Al crossed the Gate with him, it was like he was a new person in that arena. Especially after they'd moved to the north. Al realized it: Ed had been so focused on finding the Stone before to think about much else. But now that those days were over, he could live for himself, for pleasure, and not solely for his brother.

And in Nollendorfplatz, in the right bars, with the right clientele, Ed could be especially open about his desires. His preferences.

Which were clearly, exclusively, for men. But not just for men. For _certain types_ of men.

Al began to notice more patterns and it all started to make sense.

* * *

It was a cold December night, where they were once again at Der Regenbogen, which had fast become Ed's favorite watering hole in Nollendorfplatz. They served a particular kind of beer he liked, or something.

He was flirting with yet another man. Another war veteran, regaling him with tales of Verdun and Amiens. That wasn't anything special though; most of the men they met had served in the trenches of the Great War, it seemed. It had killed half a generation, and left the rest of them wounded from it, whether physically or in less tangible ways.

He was older - by at least five, if not more like ten, years. Just like the last one, and the one before. But again, not a big deal - it seemed like age differences were common among the men who dated other men. Al figured it had to do with slim pickings. Or just a general distaste for social convention. Some seemed to prefer it; Al certainly got hit on, at these bars, more by older men than men closer to his own age. Not like it mattered; Al didn't swing that way, so he politely declined while he sipped his beer and kept an eye on his brother.

It was the preference for darker hair that Al didn't quite understand. Maybe it was because Ed was blond, and people were just naturally attracted to their physical opposite?

And then, the answer walked through the door, shivering from the cold and the snow as he removed his hat. And everything suddenly clicked into place and Al didn't know how he'd been so oblivious.

Ed saw him, he couldn't take his eyes off of him.

Not that Al could help but stare, either. He tended to do that, when they found another familiar face.

His name was Robert Feuermann.

* * *

The man wasn't an exact clone; his eyes were a brighter blue, his hair was more dark brown than black. But he was in enough ways - the pale skin, the deftness at hiding his emotions, and of course, _that smirk_ \- that it made it easier for Al to put the pieces together, and see that they were always leading up to this moment.

Ed was dating men who reminded him of Colonel Mustang.

And as soon as he got to talking to and getting to know Mustang's alter, it happened very, very fast. It was almost like they fell into each other's arms. One day they were just talking and laughing, and sharing each other's personal histories - though Al wasn't listening close enough to hear if his brother revealed the full truth of their origins, the lucky thing about Ed moving from partner to partner was that he didn't usually have to do that - and the next day? The next day they were holding hands, shamelessly swapping kisses, at least while they were in Der Regenbogen and the other bars that Ed and Robert liked to frequent in Nollendorfplatz.

Herr Feuermann was like Mustang in various aspects of personality, but not much in the way of interests, it seemed. He wasn't military, or a chemist or physicist (which seemed to be this world's closest approximation to alchemy), or a politician, or really anything like what the Colonel had done with his life.

 _Maestro_ Feuermann was an artist - a composer, in fact. He wrote operas and symphonies. He conducted a small orchestra in Berlin, though when his works were performed they were at larger, more significant venues. He told Ed stories about his music, and his life as a musician. Al was pretty sure that Ed knew next to nothing about classical music, but he always listened attentively to whatever Robert had to say.

Apparently the world of classical music in 1920s Europe was a surprisingly complicated and controversial one.

"I studied with Arnold Schoenberg for a time," Feuermann told them, "I think we _all_ fell under the spell of twelve-tone music at some point. But while it's very expressive for some things," he continued, "it's not for what I want to express. For that I had to rely on more traditional harmonies, I had to be modernist in my own, distinct ways. And so that's why I stopped studying with him."

"What is twelve-tone music?" Ed has asked, eyes wide with curiosity. Again, Al wondered where this sudden curiosity for music came from, because Ed had had none of it before they met Robert. Al was certain his brother couldn't read music and had never learned any instruments, even in the years they'd been apart on opposite sides of the Gate. Noa had been a musician, but Ed had seemed content to stomp his feet to her music and never ask any questions further.

"It means all the twelve tones of the scale are of equal importance. There is none of the hierarchy of traditional tonality." Did Ed even know what Robert's terminology meant? He acted like he did. He acted like he was hanging on every word.

Is this what love did to someone?

No, no, far too early for that. Not with Ed.

At least, not with this person. But Al was pretty sure that part of the reason that Ed was so attentive to Robert Feuermann was that if he looked hard enough, he could pretend he was staring at a similar, but ultimately different face.

The face of the man he really loved.

* * *

Now that Al could see it, now that it was all clearly laid out in front of him, he wished that Ed could admit it - to himself, to Al, to anyone. Because the realization made Al pretty sad.

It wasn't just that Ed would never see Mustang again. But it was the fallout of his feelings for the other people involved.

He'd seen Ed break other men's hearts before, probably for the same reason.  _They just weren't Roy Mustang_. But this was different.

Because Al was pretty sure that Robert Feuermann really did _love_ his brother.

When he wasn't talking about his background, or his chosen career, all Robert Feuermann wanted to do was dote on Ed. He kissed him, caressed him, _so lovingly_... it wasn't long before Robert was spending nights over at Ed and Al's apartment, and though Al obviously wasn't (and wasn't interested in) looking in on their intimate moments, he could predict from the eyes that Robert gave his brother what was going on. And he didn't just mean the sex. Robert looked at Ed like he could lose himself in his eyes, held him like he never wanted to let go. He looked like he was staking all of his heart on Ed being with him, always.

"I know you know," Robert had said once to Al, when Ed was going to get more drinks, or using the bathroom, or something of the like during a long night at the bar. "I'm a little scared, I have to say. I've been burned before by love... not a lot of people in this country have much respect for a half-Chinese Jew like me, even when I'm a respected composer. Even other..." he waved his hand in a circle, acknowledging the room. "Men like us. Prejudice dies hard, you have to understand."

Al nodded along, deciding to hear Herr Feuermann out before he aired his thoughts.

"But he is so brilliant, and he ignites something in me I've never felt with another person. I feel so complete in his arms. He is so beautiful, I almost feel like I was made to write music so I could write it about him, for him... I want to write operas dedicated to his smile. No one would want to see them, they would be so boring and self-indulgent, so I won't." He chuckled. "But that's how your brother makes me feel. I feel like this time has to be the one that works out, you know?"

Al gave a small, sad smile. "I hope it does. I think it could," he said, slowly, not quite believing his words. "With time. But you have to understand. Where we lived before, there was someone Ed left behind. It's going to take a long time to get over him."

Robert's eyes drooped. "Oh. I see."

Al suddenly felt bad. "But it's okay! He's never going to see him again. And you're a lot like him, actually." He gave the composer a wide, happy smile. "So I think it could work. Certainly, he seems to be more dedicated to you than his past boyfriends."

Robert grinned and nodded. "Okay. I hope you're right, Alphonse," he said. "Because I don't know if I can take it if another man breaks my heart, especially if that man was him."

Al smiled at him reassuringly, and would have made a comment to the same effect if Ed hadn't decided to return just then, slinking his arm around Robert and leaning over to plant a kiss on his lips. It started firm and closed-mouth, but very quickly evolved into something wetter and more passionate, as per usual.

Which was Al's cue to look away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The decision to make alter!Roy a composer was probably just for the purposes of showing off my own knowledge of the classical music of the interwar period. For those who don't know, my "day job" is as a grad student in musicology.


	4. Drowning His Sorrows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three times that Roy visits his favorite watering hole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's where Sciezka enters this part of the story, and where there's going to start to be some back-and-forth between the plots of this and "The Powers of Persuasion" (my Winry/Sciezka fic that is part of this same series). But I'll try my best to make sure that both can still be read on their own.
> 
> Even though this is based on the 2003 series, I like to add details from the manga/ _Brotherhood_ version of things in places the original anime didn't flesh out as much, like Roy's backstory or the Team Mustang members' personal lives. So expect to see some mild referential spoilers for that starting in this chapter.

The Green Lion was one of Central's most popular bars on weekends - with its cheap drink specials, cabaret singers and colorful clientele. But on a Wednesday night, it was a strange, lonely place.

But like Roy Mustang was really going to wait until the weekend to get his drinking done.

He'd known what they'd said was true; they'd said it for years. He was an alcoholic. Perhaps a "high-functioning" one, but an alcoholic nonetheless. He always turned to the bottle when the going got rough - the fifth of scotch he kept in his desk, the wines lining his icebox at home. It was pathetic, maybe, but it was easy. And it didn't ask questions. Didn't expect him to explain what he did in Ishval, it just took the cruel memories quietly, leaving him behind in more pleasant reveries. They'd be back by the following day, they always came back - but at least he could be alone, away from them for now, and relish the escape of his delirious, drunken haze.

The bartender - no matter who it was - always gave Roy a knowing nod when he sat down. That's how much of a regular he was. He knew he should feel ashamed of himself. But what veteran of Ishval, what person who'd seen what Roy had seen, didn't turn to some sort of self-destruction? Roy rarely drank to  _excess_ , and he knew people who chased their demons in worse ways: hard drugs, self-mutilation. Or, more serious, _debilitating_ types of alcoholism. He'd known people who had _true_  "lost weekends", going on extended benders where they forgot every responsibility and loved one they had, total slaves to the booze running through their veins.

Hell, Ed hadn't been in the war but he'd seen enough horrible things that Roy was sure that even he had picked up some bad habits. Al was always a trooper, good-hearted, angelic soul that he was, but Ed had never been good at dealing with his problems without bringing other people in to them. He's sure that as Ed had grown, he had acquired some vices that he wouldn't have had access to as a fiery teenager.

Ed. _Ed, Ed, Ed. I can't get him out of my head, even years later._

_Is it really Ishval, or the night in the Führer's mansion, that drives me to drink? Or is it this?_

_Maybe a nice whiskey will help me figure that out._

* * *

 

So, he ordered one. And another. But the liquor didn't take effect right away, and Roy had some time to think about his plan.

Which was a necessity. Winry Rockbell would be coming into town in a week, and he had to make sure he knew what he was going to say to her. Had to make sure he had all the details ready, if she said yes. Because she wasn't an alchemist; she would need his guidance.

And he remembered other details he'd shamefully overlooked. Things Roy sometimes forgot, being the man he was. Things he should have considered, before he started planning out this whole ordeal, with him and the Rockbell girl and Edward. 

One of those had to do with sexuality. Roy had never cared much for gender when it came to picking his partners. There were more important things, and besides, a life spent only experimenting with half of humanity was a life half-lived. It had been the case from his earliest sexual encounters; the first was at 16 with one of the girls under his foster mother's employ, frantic, desperate, and yet somehow, managing to stay as discreet as it needed to be. (What Madame Christmas would have done had she found out! Roy cowered at the thought.) The second was a few years later, with Hughes in their academy days; it involved just as much awkward fumbling but a tenderness and affection built on years of friendship that the previous encounter could never have hoped to reach. Since then, Roy had fallen in love and in lust with many men and women, and appreciated the different repertoire that each brought to the bedroom.

Yet, he knew he was not everyone. Some people swung distinctly toward one or the other side of the fence, through no fault of their own. Roy had forgotten to consider if Ed might be one of those people.

 _What if Ed's only interested in women?_ Roy wondered to himself. It made sense. A lot of men were - just about all the other men on his team, he suspected. After all, with Havoc's abysmal luck with the fairer sex, he'd certainly have switched to his own long ago if there had been any interest.

( _What if Ed's only interested in_ men? asked a smaller voice, deeper in his head. It was too good to be true, it was filled with too much hope. It couldn't be honest. Roy had stopped putting stock in pipe dreams when he was in Ishval.)

That was really the smallest of issues, though. It just seemed big, because well, that was the _reason_ Roy was doing it. And he had to consider every angle in this regard. Was it really worth crossing into this parallel world, where he knew nothing, where he had no hard-won reputation and maybe not even any useful skills - only to find that the man he'd chased after didn't return his feelings? That his entire reason for risking it all was for naught?

But was it worth living out his life here in Amestris, separated from what may possibly be the love of his life, forever?

The bigger question: how was Roy going to open the Gate? There were only a few ways, all of them difficult, and most seriously messing with the taboos of alchemy.

If he got it wrong, he'd be lucky if he escaped and was simply stripped of his title and thrown in jail for the rest of his life. (They'd stopped the executions of those guilty of human transmutation with Führer Bradley's death and the fall of his regime.) More likely, he would be killed himself, or come back some deformed, inhuman mess.

He knew he could risk everything for Ed, but that didn't mean that it wasn't smart for Roy to minimize the risks. How to do that, though... he'd have to keep going back to the library again. And perusing the paperwork for rogue alchemists already playing with the metaphorical fire.

This whiskey wasn't working fast enough.

* * *

It was a Monday night the following week when Roy found himself back in The Green Lion, though this time, not alone. He was here with his team. Two had recently been promoted - Riza to Major, Breda to Captain - and they were out celebrating. Roy was happy for them, but deep down he couldn't get the whole situation out of his mind. Luckily, nobody in the team noticed... except for the one person who always noticed.

Roy couldn't get anything past Riza Hawkeye.

It made sense, in a way; they'd known each since they were teenagers, since Roy had been a student of Riza's father, the original master of Flame Alchemy. But Riza had a knack for seeing through everyone, living up to her surname. It was just that when she was as familiar with another human as Roy was, it was particularly sharp. Roy could read her well, too, but he could never match the interpersonal acumen of his closet subordinate when it came to this.

So it wasn't long before Riza slid up to Roy, brooding at the bar while the other boys were busy cheering and pounding back beer after beer.

"Congratulations, Major," Roy said, "if I didn't give you enough congratulations before."

Riza chuckled. "I'm not that full of myself, unlike someone else I know," she replied, nodding toward him. "That's not why I joined you here and you know it."

"So tell me why you did," Roy said, as he took another sip of his scotch.

"Something is on your mind, sir. Something's _been_ on your mind. I've seen you brooding a lot lately, and I want to know what's going on."

"I brood a lot, Major," he said. _Ever since he left me behind for the other world._ But that didn't need to be said; Riza knew that better than anyone.

Well, maybe not better than the Rockbell girl, these days. But better than anyone else in Roy's usual circle of friends and coworkers and trusted confidantes.

Anyway, Riza wasn't buying it.

"Not as much as the last few weeks," she clarified. "And there's something in particular that's changed. I'd like to know what it is. You know...so it doesn't affect your work."

Roy smiled at that. Riza often felt like she had to pretend that they weren't close outside of their assigned roles from the military. That they hadn't been _an item_ several years ago, when Roy was still in denial about the blond he _really_ loved - and that their friendship now _and_ before didn't long predate their professional relationship.

But the fact is that Riza was his closest friend, and could read him like a book - and all of his team knew that.

Yet, he wasn't sure he wanted to tell her this. She'd probably be upset and try to talk him out of it, at the very least. She'd be distraught about losing her best friend, and commanding officer - and possibly frustrated at him for toying with the taboos of alchemy.

And he knew there was no point in her airing those grievances, because for him there was no turning back. Not now.

"Well, if you must know..."

"I must," she said, finally, certainly. "I can't have you going on like this." She said it sadly, desperately, in a way that made it clear it wasn't _really_ about any paperwork that might not get done.

"I've been looking into some ways to cross the Gate."

Riza's eyes got wide. She gaped at him, in horror. "You can't be serious, Roy."

His eyebrows shot up so fast, they must have been near the roof. Riza never called him by his first name. Not unless she had a point to make.

But it was a point that had to fall on deaf ears. "I am very, very serious, Major."

"I know you love him, but he made his decision, and you closed the Gate. Anything that would require opening it would be disastrous - and could get you behind bars forever if it didn't kill or mutilate you in the process. You know that.

"Be serious, sir. You're the last person I would ever expect to throw away your career aspirations in the name of love."

Roy stared at her for a long time, then took a deep breath. "I have no aspirations and you know it. They'd never let me be Prime Minister and you know it." He hushed to a whisper only she could hear. "Not after I killed the last Führer and -" he put a finger to her lips before she could argue. "You know our excuse is not airtight enough that the Bradley loyalists would buy it. Archer was there, too, after all, and he shot me in the eye. Some people will buy that he might be the one to try to kill Bradley, but a lot of people won't. It's well-known that the man followed him blindly. Hell, he even knew about the homunculi-"

Riza brushed away Roy's finger. "I get it, sir. But you're really just going to let Lieutenant General Armstrong take your place, your dream?"

"I have no choice," he said solemnly. "Besides, she may be a hard-ass who dislikes me, but we have similar political goals, and that's what matters here. I have no issue with an Amestris under her rule. In fact, I welcome it."

Riza sighed. "And yet, you won't be here to see it."

"Major -"

She continued, her face hardening. "And you know your goals aren't the real issue here, anyway, sir. You're messing with some very dangerous alchemy. _Very_ dangerous. I may not be an alchemist, but I am the daugher of one, and as you know, my father was very much the kind of alchemist who had little regard for the laws of the state when it came to these things. This is very, very dark alchemy. And I know that when I see it."

"Can you trust me when I say I've looked into it?" He was getting frustrated, much as he understood Riza's concerns. "I've researched this extensively. There are ways to open the Gate that don't involve me dying or sacrificing something." He hushed his voice again. "Any type of human transmutation, not just raising the dead -"

"And every type of human transmutation is strictly forbidden," she reminded him in a low growl. It was becoming harder and harder for Riza to hide her disdain for what Roy was considering. _How could he even think -_

"Not if it's disposing of homunculi," he continued.

"Of which there are no more. Alphonse killed the last of them when he opened the Gate, or don't you remember?"

"Homunculi are created every time an alchemist of sufficient skill attempts human transmutation. The Elrics created the one called Sloth when they tried to revive their mother; Scar's brother created the one called Lust when he tried to resurrect his girlfriend. We've had several close calls with rogue alchemists in recent years, so it probably won't be long until there's another one that can be used to open the Gate. Even in the mutilated forms they're in before the Red Stones, they work."

Riza laughed, a cruel laugh, into her own drink. "And so what are you going to do then? Scan the paperwork for likely candidates, and manipulate them until they actually go through with it? Then you're just as bad as the homuncuil themselves, playing with the feelings of desperate, grieving people to get their Stone!

"So help me, Colonel, you know I don't want to, but if I have to fulfill my promise to you of what I'd do if you ever strayed from your path..."

"That's not the only way, Riza," Roy said. Now he was the one going by first names, for emphasis, in hopes of getting through to her.

It worked.

"One of the books mentioned that, if you have a being sufficiently young, still connected to the Gate, like a baby..." He put a hand up before her slowly-horrifying expression. "Don't look like that! You don't have to sacrifice them. If you draw the right array, and just hold them up to it, it will open the Gate."

Riza's expression softened slightly as she took it in, but was still angry. "Where do you plan to find a baby - and a parent who will let you use their child as your guinea pig?"

"Not a guinea pig, Major. I'm not exaggerating when I say it won't be harmed."

"I trust you, but you really better trust yourself. You better know that you know what you're doing."

"I do."

She sighed as she looked him over, slowly. Almost finally, even though, of course, if Roy went through with his plan it would still be some time before he'd say goodbye to her and everyone else. It was difficult for him to watch; Roy knew that even though she'd been the one who'd ended their brief relationship, years ago before the invasion from the other world, that she still had some sort of feelings for him.

He knew that even if she were assured that he wasn't going to hurt himself or live the rest of his life in a jail cell, that she would be upset by this. That she'd never see him again.

"You better know, too..." she began. "Oh, of course you know this. But you really should _consider_ how many people there are here in Amestris who will miss you. Don't think you have nothing to live for here just because your political goals won't pan out."

Roy looked at her for a long time. "I know that. But...." He couldn't put it into words. How could he explain to Riza just how desperate, how lonely he felt? How it felt like a piece of his life had been ripped away when Ed returned to the other world - and yet, somehow he didn't quite realize the depths of that despair until later. He was able to give Alphonse to his brother as a parting gift at the time, but now, he had a feeling that he wouldn't make the same decision, even knowing it was the right one. He would go himself. He was too far gone, too madly in love with this man...

She seemed to understand, anyway, without him saying. She patted his shoulder. "Love makes madmen of us all, doesn't it?"

Roy nodded as he watched her get up and rejoin the others.

* * *

It was later that week, on a Thursday, when he found himself back at the same watering hole. At least The Green Lion was a bit more popular on this day of the week, coming as it did right before the weekend proper. At least drowning my sorrows doesn't look as pathetic tonight.

He was alone, at first, but it wasn't long before a certain bespectacled brunette came running up to him, eyes blazing with a fire even he couldn't conjure with his gloves. It only existed in the eyes of those blinded by fury.

Like in Ed's eyes whenever he'd storm out of Roy's office after handing in his reports.

"You're buying," Sciezka said as she slammed herself down in the seat next to Roy. "You owe me, Mustang."

Roy was taken aback, not having had any idea what prompted this rage - at least, directed toward him. Had he even talked to Sciezka in more than a few years?

"I'll gladly buy you a drink, I love buying drinks for lovely young women like yourself -"

"Don't flatter me, Mustang." She wasn't going to be assuaged by Roy's natural charm, apparently.

"...but I really have no idea what brought this on, Sciezka. I don't think I've done anything to you -"

"This isn't about me, Mustang. This is about Winry."

"Ah." He said, hopefully not too dismissively, as he took a sip of his martini while he set about flagging down a bartender to order something for Sciezka. If Winry had just told Sciezka about what happened to her parents, he could more than understand her wrath; he was furious at himself for it, to this day. But he was truly surprised, considering the close friendship those girls seemed to have, that she had just found out...

"Why are you telling her this crap about being able to find Ed? She doesn't need false hope like that, idiot. Especially not from you, after all you've done to her already."

Oh, okay. So this wasn't about Winry's parents. At least, not this _latest_ bit of rage. And Sciezka _had_ already known, as Roy suspected.

"What makes you think that it's false? I'm an accomplished State Alchemist, Sciezka. Surely you realize I had to know about more than just Flame Alchemy to get there. I know how to use the library, I know how to research."

"Mustang, I've read every book in that library, I know what they say. Go chasing after Ed all _you_ want. But don't involve Winry."

"And why shouldn't I?"

"She has too much to live for here in Amestris."

"Well, that's why I _asked_ her. But maybe she'll decide that she loves Ed enough that she wants to go after him, too." Roy was, of course, speaking more for himself than anyone else here. But he knew Winry loved Ed as well; who knew, perhaps she felt the same way.

That's why he was giving her that option.

"But she shouldn't. Ed doesn't love her."

Roy stopped at that and looked at her wide-eyed, being sure to direct all the seriousness required at such an assumption. "And how would you know, Miss Sciezka?"

She felt a little sheepish under Roy's commanding gaze, but she eventually managed to come out with what she had to say. "Hughes tried to set us up on a date once when he was alive."

Roy couldn't help but chuckle a bit at that. Oh, Maes, thinking Amestris's two biggest bookworms would be a perfect match. Roy missed his meddling, matchmaking ways. _I know he'd have something to say to me about this. I wish I could know what._

"It's not funny!" Sciezka waved her hands back and forth in exasperation. "It was the most awkward experience of my life. We were both completely uninterested."

"No offense, Miss Sciezka," Roy began, "but just because Ed isn't interested in you doesn't mean he wouldn't be interested in Miss Rockbell. Men have different tastes."

"I know that, you moron," she continued. "We talked about it afterward. That's why I know this. Ed told me why he wasn't into me. It's the same reason I'm not into him."

Roy raised his eyebrows, not quite sure where this was going. A small voice in the back of his head had an idea, but he ignored it.

"It's the same reason I'm immune to your ladykilling ways, Colonel Mustang," Sciezka continued, giggling a bit. Then she took a deep breath.

"I'm gay. And so is Ed."


	5. More Familiar Faces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed and his boyfriend spend a night at the opera - at the _premiere_ of the latter's new opera, in fact. And Ed shouldn't be surprised anymore that the people he'd meet there would bear uncanny resemblances to some of his Amestrian acquaintances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This may be a bit of a diversion from the main plot, so it could be disappointing for those who want more progress on the Roy/Ed or "Winry learns the truth about Ed" fronts. But the idea came to me out of nowhere and I just _had_ to run with it. So hopefully this will be fun for people anyway!

It was a beautiful, clear night, with all the stars sparkling in the sky - or as many as were going to come out in downtown Berlin, anyway. After weeks of typical frigid January weather, the temperature had finally climbed up to something reasonable. The last thing in the world Ed wanted to be was stuck inside, at a big stuffy opera house.

But that was the price of dating a famous composer, wasn't it? He had to be the good, supportive boyfriend, go to his premieres, look the part. Even if they technically weren't supposed to be "public" about it; in the musical circles Robert traveled in, people tended to know about these things and at least turn a blind eye if not accept it. The public may not be aware of it, but it was an open secret among the cream of Berlin's musical crop that Maestro Robert Feuermann took men, not women, as his lovers, and Edward Elric was the latest.

Ed didn't really mind  _too_  much, if he was honest. Heck, some operas could be pretty exciting! He'd never realized it from the way that Mustang and his team would talk about it when the Colonel had tickets to see one with some girl; it always sounded like such mushy romantic crap. People who'd just met bursting into song about how much they loved each other. And granted, there was a lot of that. But there was also, sometimes, action! And violence! And mystery and intrigue!

And more often than not, that was the case in his boyfriend's operas; it was like he was writing them specifically for Ed's tastes, or something. He'd managed to convince the ultimate philistine, who shied away from all mention of "culture," to love opera. Ed would never admit it to him, of course. But it was true.

So he eagerly anticipated Robert's next opera, though he tried not to do so to a degree that would tip the older man off to his enthusiasm. Yet, Ed had a feeling Robert could see right through his masks. The man wasn't a politician like his Amestris counterpart, but he had every bit of Mustang's cunning and brilliance at reading people. Ed felt every bit as naked in front of Robert as he had around Mustang.

( _Why can't I stop thinking about Mustang?_ Ed wondered.)

"So you finally did a  _Faust_ , huh?" Ed asked Robert, nudging him as they took their seats in the special composer's box. Ed had learned enough about opera from his boyfriend that he knew how many operas took their plots from Goethe's play, or the legend on which it was based. "Should be interesting. I like devils and...dark stuff."

He didn't talk to Robert about how much the idea of selling a part of oneself for some larger goal resonated with him. Robert knew nothing of Ed's true origins.

The composer laughed. "Well, it was requested. By the lead soprano."

"Since when do singers get to request operas?" Ed asked. "And a soprano leading a  _Faust_ story?"

"When they're old friends. Old friends whose father taught you your craft." He cleared his throat, as Ed's face took on a look of understanding. "And yes, she's leading it. She wanted my idea of what a female  _Faust_ would be."

Ed still couldn't believe that his silly boyfriend wrote his own texts to these operas, too. Robert Feuermann had some weird philosophical answer about the importance of the text and music coming from the same person, but Ed just saw it as more work. But it did seem to get him a certain amount of respect as a storyteller, not just a composer, that Robert, of course, _relished_.

Of course. There just wasn't a universe where any version of Roy would _not_ be a smug bastard.

It wasn't long after that the curtain opened, and the overture played, and Ed got his first glimpse of Robert's female Faust. And his eyes widened.

Because this lead soprano, Roy's old friend and the daughter of his composition teacher, was the spitting image of Lieutenant Hawkeye.

* * *

 

"Riza Sólyom?" Ed asked disbelievingly, looking at the program.

"You've heard of my good friend?" Robert asked him. It was during intermission; Robert didn't want to mingle with the audience while the show was still going on. He was weird like that.

"No, no," Ed clarified. "Her name just sounds like someone I knew where I lived before…when I was in the South," he quickly fixed.

"Ah. I wouldn't have expected you to have heard of her, as someone who didn't pay any attention to the classical music world before you met me." He smirked, that characteristic smirk that just _proved_ he was this world's Mustang, since it was the exact same one the Colonel always wore. "She's quite renowned in my corner of the universe, however – being the daughter of a famous composer, and a child prodigy in her own right."

"Was she really?" Ed asked. "In singing?"

"No," Robert finished. "In piano. Her father taught her piano, theory and composition from an early age. The world would never take a female composer seriously, but that wasn't going to waste his dreams for his child just because she hadn't turned out to be a son. So he taught her all the bells and whistles of a musical career, and she toured all across Europe as a piano-playing girl wonder. Playing a lot of Liszt, of course. Barta Sólyom was nothing if not proud of his national heritage, of course. He liked me for being non-German too, I suppose. Another outsider."

"So that's how you met her?"

"Yes," Robert continued. "He always made sure to have her demonstrate how much better she was at the piano than me. Of course, I didn't need it. I knew. I wasn't there to learn how to play; I was there to learn how to write music. And I did – I couldn't have had a better teacher than him. But I did never like the way he treated Riza."

"Oh?"

"He adored her talents, but always saw her as his own personal project. A depository for his own ambitions. He'd never been able to make it as a performer, so he made sure his daughter did. He micromanaged her life from day one. Right down to the man she was to marry. Or, he tried to at least." 

"Really?" Ed was glad that Robert hadn't questioned his fascination with the lead soprano. It was interesting to hear how a Riza Hawkeye had turned out in this world – when it was music, not the military, that was governing her life, and that of this world's Roy.

"Yes, he wanted her to marry _me_." The older man laughed, loudly and somewhat bitterly. "Can you imagine? Of course, we were always good friends, and she was well aware of my conflicting preferences. She didn't want me, anyway. By the time she was of marrying age, she wasn't going to do _anything_ if her father wanted it."

Ed blinked. That didn't sound like the Riza he knew. Riza Hawkeye was always so good at following orders. But then again, Ed had never known anything of her relationship with her father, or anyone else other than Mustang and the other members of his team. And she _had_ been good at ordering around Havoc and the rest of the gang when they were being dimwits.

"That's why she switched to singing. As soon as she was an adult, she was done being her father's trick pony. But most of what she knew was music, so she chose a different branch of it. Barta was furious. But not nearly like he was when she did finally get married."

Ed's eyes widened. With all he'd heard, this _had_ to be good. "Some composer he didn't like, or something?"

Robert laughed, even louder than before. "Oh no! Oh, if only, I think Barta would have _much_ preferred that," he said when he'd settled down. "No, Jean Hébert is not involved in the music world at all. He's just some random French shop owner's son who Riza met when she was touring in Paris. A nobody, _and_ a Frenchman in these times…Riza couldn't have done more to scandalize society, and infuriate her father. It's probably part of what drove him into an early grave, actually."

Now Ed was nearly laughing. He really liked this world's rebellious version of Hawkeye – and it made him wonder about who the one of _his_ world was outside of the office. "Will I get to meet her?" he asked. 

"Yes," Robert said, "after the show ends, we'll go backstage and you'll get to see everyone. Maybe even the infamous Monsieur Hébert will be there…" he trailed off as the lights dimmed and curtain opened for the second act.

* * *

 

The opera had been every bit as exciting as Ed had expected. Robert's female Faust was stifled by an overprotective father and the strict expectations of society, and made a deal with the devil – the only way she could get it – for her own power and independence and freedom. And everything started out well, as she had her own career and a husband who loved her. But it gradually began to go wrong, as it came closer to the time when Mephistopheles would collect his deed on her soul. The once-caring husband turned controlling, and she was forced to give up her career to serve him as much as she once had her father.

"A sad reflection on the plight of the modern woman, was what she wanted," Robert said after it ended. "Luckily, that won't be Riza's fate for defying her father; everyone knows who runs _her_ marriage." He nearly guffawed at his own joke as he and Ed went backstage to join the cast.

Robert was nearly knocked over by a blonde woman with her hair in a tight bun – the same no-nonsense hairstyle of her Amestris counterpart – and a flashy red dress. (Now, _that_ was something Ed could never picture the Lieutenant wearing.) She was holding a bouqet, which she flung around Robert's shoulders as she embraced him. "Robert! That was fantastic. Everything I wanted, you know, especially all the high solos."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," he said, embracing her. "You were fantastic. We should collaborate more, you know."

"I agree," she said, but suddenly, her attention was turned away from her friend. "Oh now, is this the famous Edward Elric?" She untangled herself from Robert and held out her hand to shake Ed's. "So good to meet you! Robert has told me so much about you, you know."

Ed was a bit taken aback by that comment. "What does he say?" he asked, the idea that he should respond to her introduction completely slipping his mind.

"Only that he loves you so much he would probably marry you if two men could," she said, which caused Robert to blush and protest, but she nudged him. "Come on, you know it's true," she finished.

She may have Hawkeye's face, but unlike Robert, Riza Sólyom wasn't much like her Amestris counterpart at all in personality, it seemed. At least, like Hawkeye as Ed knew her. It made him wonder, once again, if she'd had hidden depths that her coworkers would never usually see, especially a 15-year-old one who was always out of town on some mission or another.

"Oh, Edward, Robert and I must introduce you to my husband. The love of _my_ life," she giggled, as she turned to grab him. "Jean! Robert wants to see you and he has someone he wants you to meet!"

Ed looked up as Jean Hébert entered the room and his eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. Standing there, hand-in-hand with Riza, was the spitting-image of Jean Havoc.

Ed couldn't help but think of the Amestrian Riza and Jean as a couple and he nearly fell over as he convulsed with laughter.

"Ed…Ed? Are you alright?" Robert asked him repeatedly, but Ed couldn't stop cackling like a hyena, lost in his amusement.

All these familiar faces, yet in such _un_ familiar situations…it was far too much!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Riza is the Hungarian version of the name Theresa, so that's why I decided that her alter should be Hungarian. Sólyom is a Hungarian surname that means "hawk" or "eagle." By the way, she's Riza Hébert legally but has kept her maiden name in a professional sense, since she was already established as a famous singer by the name she married Jean.


End file.
